Two of a Kind
by Liquid Ink
Summary: 47 has someone interfering with him, in a good way. Still, its not his thing. Based on the games and set after Blood Money. My first Hitman fic so please be honest.
1. Chapter 1

Disclaimer: I don't own the Hitman franchise and I make no money from this piece of work. All original characters belong to Edios and IO Interactive and I use them completely without permission. No offense is meant by the use of a Church.

(Set just before contracts)

**Two of a Kind**

Chapter one

Agent 47 watched impassively through the scope as his target chased his three year old grandson around the garden. The afternoon sun beat down on the rocks where he lay, the edges shimmering with heat. The scent of laundry detergent rose from his suit as it warmed up on the baking stone. 47 didn't fidget nor twitch, instead waiting patiently for the games to finish and for the boy's nanny to come fetch him and take him inside.

As he watched the two play, a silent vibration came from the cell phone in his pocket. Without taking his eye from the sights, he touched the Bluetooth device in his ear and listened. An electronic voice read out a text message.

"You have been compromised. Leave the area at once, do not take your weapons as you will be searched, detection is inevitable. Move now!"

In one smooth motion he was on his feet and moving away from the villa. Nimbly slithering down the slope, he darted behind a stand of elm saplings as he heard several voices conversing in guttural Italian. From their tone, they were security and on high alert. As the voices drew abreast of him, he stepped out of the trees with the chauffeurs cap from his pocket now in his hands. Affecting a loud English accent, he called out to the patrol.

"Excuse me, gentlemen, hello?"

Swinging from their path, the three guards hurried over to him. Two covered him with wicked looking machine guns while the third demanded in heavily accented English:

"Who are you and what are you doing here? This is private property, what do you want?"

"I'm a driver, a limo. I was told to pick up a Mr. Vacca at Villa Rosa, but I can't seem to find the place."

He held up his hands as he spoke as if intimidated by the weapons. The man regarded him and then snapped:

"Put up your hands, you will be searched."

Obeying slowly, 47 allowed himself to be roughly frisked and then shoved backwards as the guard spat at his feet.

"Idiot! Villa Rosa is two miles down the street. You should have read the signs more closely. Where is your vehicle?"

"I left it at the end of the driveway, I was hoping to find someone to give me directions."

"Go quickly, before I give my boot directions to your ass!" the guard waved 47 in the direction of the main road with his rifle. Spitting again at his shoes, the guard turned back to his companions and cursed loudly in Italian. They slowly ambled off on their route, occasionally glancing behind them to make sure that the inept driver was on him way back to the car…

As soon as he reached the car, 47 got in and drove in the direction of the fictitious pickup, however as soon as he was out of sight and earshot, he gunned the engine and hastily headed into the nearest village.

Parking in the town square, he mingled with the tourists, pretending to sightsee while looking for a church. Finally spotting one, he walked through the doorway and under cover of the genuflection, looked for the Merces Letifer symbol embedded in the cement of the doorframe. It was engraved on the left side, close to the floor as not to be noticed. This meant that there would be someone inside that could help him. Standing up, he paced down the centre aisle and made his way to the confessional. Inside the cool wooden booth, he inhaled the scent of incense and beeswax polish and he leaned back and closed his eyes. The rustle of broadcloth heralded the arrival of the priest and a moment later the wooden divider slid silently aside.

"How may I help you my son?"

"Forgive me father for I have failed." Said 47 solemnly.

The divider suddenly slid shut and he could hear the hasty movements on the other side of the wooden wall. He remained seated, confident that he would be called momentarily and was proven correct when a light tap came at his door. Emerging from the confessional, he found an altar boy waiting for him. He allowed himself to be lead in silence to a near invisible side door. The boy unlocked it with a large brass key and held it open for him. Stepping through, 47 heard the door close and lock behind him. The room he had entered was dark with dimly glowing light fixture. Directly in front of him was another identical door, which was swinging open. He entered another chamber, flooded with artificial light and filled with the electrical sounds of computers and other such hardware.

A young man in the robes of a monk came up to him and said:

"This way please sir, your terminal is ready."

Following him to an out of the way corner, he sat down behind the desk and opened the laptop that had been placed there. Logging into the network, he waited for Diana to be patched through. The young monk had vanished and he watched as similar young men bustled around the ancient stone chamber working with some of the world's most modern equipment. A soft tone signaled Diana's presence and he patched the audio through to his Bluetooth. Diana's crisp tones filled his ears.

"What happened 47? You didn't complete the job and now you're scaring the local network."

"You told me that I had been compromised, to leave immediately."

"I did no such thing."

"The message came through on my secure phone, only you have that number."

"I didn't send you a message. "

"Someone did. You need to find out who."

"I'll look into it. Meanwhile, you have to finish the job, the client will not accept failure."

"Any new parameters?"

"Dead by dawn, just like always."

The connection was abruptly severed and 47 was left wondering, if Diana wasn't looking over his shoulder, who was?


	2. Chapter 2

Chapter Two

47 waited in the shadows of the tiny alley off Bourbon Street. His target would be coming through any moment now, staggering under the effects of the large dose of barbital that he had been slipped earlier during the Mardi Gras celebrations. A scrape of shoe leather in the dark alerted him to the target's approach and he flexed his hand in the supple calfskin gloves and drew his fibrewire. As the target drew closer, his Bluetooth vibrated spitefully in his pocket. Without waiting for a connection, an electronic voice spoke softly in his ear:

"That is not your target. That man knows where you are and is coming to kill you. Your target is long gone"

Within the first six words, 47 had already melted back into the darkness and swung himself up onto the nearby fire escape. Climbing out onto the second storey lintel, he crept towards the would be killer. When he was directly above him, he silently dropped down, aiming his elbow out for a devastatingly crushing blow to the other man's neck. He died without making a sound.

47 disposed of the body in a conveniently nearby dumpster, completing the plans he had laid out for his intended target. In his line of work, one body was not as good as another and he wanted answers. As he headed back to hotel, he threaded his way through the seething mass of merry-makers, keeping a close eye on doorways and windows, but he spotted nothing.

Back in his room, he logged in on the laptop and requested Diana. She was online promptly.

"Why is the target still alive?"

"The setup was compromised. The target sent his killer to do unto me before I could do unto him" quipped 47, in a rare display of humor.

"Why the good mood 47, might I remind you that we still have a client to satisfy."

"The target will find a nasty surprised for him when he gets into bed this evening, a small but effective explosive device rigged to a pressure switch has been attached to his bedframe."

"You seem to be taking unusual second measures lately 47" admonished Diana.

"We seem to be getting compromised a lot lately…" 47 let the insinuation hang.

"How did you know?"

"Our mysterious voice was back again, managed to bypass my answer prompt on the Bluetooth as well."

"That makes six interventions now!" she exclaimed. "How are they doing this?"

"I don't know, but they've always been right."

"Italy, China, Africa, Germany, Russia and now the States." She sighed. "I really want to know how they're getting into our systems. Have you noticed anything around you, anything unusual?"

"No."

"Keep watching 47, they're bound to slip up somewhere. Diana out."

He closed the laptop and headed for the shower. Under the scalding water he reflected that the mysterious voice was always right, always alerting him just in time. The question was: why?

Were they helping him out of danger or plunging him deeper…


	3. Chapter 3

The timeline has now caught up to the end of Blood money.

Chapter Three:

The laptop rested on a low table, while a tall figure paced in front of it. An impatient rustle of silk followed each movement until finally they stopped in front of the computer and hammered on the keyboard. The pacing resumed until the well cultured tones of Diana Burnwood issued from the speakers.

"I assume this is the person that has been intervening with our missions?"

"If you mean saving your collective asses, then yes, this is me."

Back in her remote island office, Diana heard the electronically scrambled reply and hissed in irritation. What burned the most was that they were right, without the intervention of this ghostly person, they would never have managed to save the Agency from liquidation.

"What can I do for you?"

"47."

"Is no longer active with the agency. But I'm sure that you knew this."

"I am aware that he no longer works with you but I am very sure that there is a way for you to contact him. After all, you have made freelance arrangements with him."

"If you know so much, then you should be able to contact him yourself." snapped Diana.

"I could. But he wouldn't trust me."

"Neither do I." answered Diana wryly.

"All I want you to do is deliver a message. He will take action from there."

"Take action?"

"It's for him to decide whether he comes or not. I assure you he is quite safe from me. If we wanted him dead, it would have happened already."

"Yes, you've already demonstrated your knowledge of our operations. What assurances do I have that you won't harm 47?"

"None."

"Then what do we stand to gain by aiding you?"

"Nothing. This is between 47 and myself. You have already gained from my intervention, now it's my turn."

"What's the message?"

"Tell him to go to Hong Kong and visit an old friend in the red-light district."

An electronic beep signalled that the called had signed off before Diana could reply.

Diana leaned back in her chair and thoughtfully tapped her lips with a pencil. The voice was right, she could get a message to 47 but the question wasn't could she, but more one of should she?

She did.

"First boarding call for flight 573, JFK to Hong Kong. Please board through gate 12."

47 unfolded himself from the sofa in the first class lounge and picked up his bag. Making his way along the corridors, he presented his boarding pass and was duly processed onto the plane. Stowing his single carry-on in the overhead compartment, he settled into his seat and watched the rest of the passengers boarding, mentally ticking them off the passenger manifest that he had stolen from the security desk that morning. And although he doubted that the 98 year old lady next to him was much of a threat, it paid to be cautious.

A few moments later his ears rang slightly as the main door was sealed and the cabin fully pressurised. A smooth motion as the plane taxied out and pressure on his chest as they climbed into the sky. Soon the plane levelled out and the seatbelt sign winked out. The brightly uniformed attendants began making their rounds and all was well as the plane roared towards China.

47 enjoyed the meal, didn't watch the movie and declined a pillow. As he closed his eyes and leaned his head back, he thought to himself:

** Mei Ling, what kind of trouble have you gotten yourself into now?**

It was winter in Hong Kong and snow clotted the gutters and curbs just outside the airport doors, despite the heavy traffic. Quickly obtaining a taxi, 47 delivered the address he had been given by Diana. As the taxi pulled into traffic, he remembered that conversation.

"I thought I asked to be left alone."

"I have a message for you."

"Since when are you an answering service?"

"Since our mutual acquaintance contacted me directly in my office on my private comms channel."

"They seem to be everywhere."

"Indeed. There's a message for you, do you want it?"

"What happened to the trace?"

"Excuse me?"

"I assume you traced the communication?"

"We tried. There appears to be no evidence of it on our servers. For all intents and purposes, I spoke to a ghost."

"Interesting. What was the message?"

"Go to Hong Kong and visit an old friend in the red-light district. I assume you would know what that means?"

"It does. Thank you Diana."

"Be careful 47."

He terminated the connection and erased the log. As he turned towards his closet, a knock at the door made him pause. He went to the door and peered at the intercom screen.

A teenage boy wearing the uniform of a local bike messenger service slouched in the hallway, impatiently checking his watch. No one else seemed to be in the hall.

"Can I help you?"

"Package for a Mr. Reaper?" said the boy.

47 sighed and opened the door. One indecipherable scrawl later, he walked back into the room with a large envelope. He passed it through a fluoroscope and a chemical detector before opening it. Inside he found a pamphlet for the Jade Palace of a Thousand Pleasures and a plane ticket.

Which brought him to where he was now, entering the lobby of the Palace of a Thousand Pleasures.

Decorated in sumptuous marble and gilt the hotel gave off an expensive upmarket feel, which was compounded by the elegant clientèle bustling through the lobby. The concierge smiled brightly at him and asked:

"Do you have a reservation Sir?"

"I believe that it was made under the name of Reaper."

"One moment please."

She tapped at the computer and then stiffened in surprise. Looking up at 47, she gave him the same bright smile and said:

"You suite is ready Sir and you have a dinner reservation with Miss Ling in the main salon at nine tonight. The porter will show you to your room."

"Thank you."

47 entered the elevator with the porter carrying his bag and was directed to his room. Once he tipped the porter and closed the door, he paced the room and concealed what few weapons he managed to slip through the airport. He glanced at his watch and decided that there was time to clean up before dinner.


End file.
